


Swords & Axes: A Cheerless Interlude

by JessicaX



Series: Cheerless Saga [2]
Category: Sabrina the Teenage Witch (TV)
Genre: Band Fic, Concerts, F/F, F/M, Gen, Light Angst, New York City, POV Bisexual Character, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Private School, Teen Angst, Teenage Drama, Unrequited Crush, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:17:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaX/pseuds/JessicaX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[CHEERLESS SAGA, Book 2/6] Follow the further misadventures of Libby Chessler as she adjusts to being outside her comfort zone... and away from Sabrina. What does life after high school hold for a pom-pom queen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Libby, Don't You Lose My Number

I have a problem. It's a very big problem, and I don't know what to do about it... and I'm not sure how I feel about it exactly, so I can't even make an educated choice. The indecision is killing me.

Welcome back to my life, everyone! Just so you know, I'm still at this "boredom school"; I call it this because life has somehow actually grown  _less_ interesting since I last wrote about it. With our workload piling on and all this choir practice (turns out I can sing circles around everybody in the school - go me!), I didn't have as much chance to think about it, but obviously that means I'm not partying down so much, either. Most of the student body just ignores me altogether, including Giselle (my bunkmate); the girl's polite enough, but she spends all day studying and doesn't seem to care that other humans exist. I swear, as sought-out and popular as I was back home, you'd think a little of it would carry over, but nooooo! It's almost like I'm a... well, you know. The g-word.

My name is Libby Chessler, and sometime during this cruel twist of fate... I went from chic to geek.

I'm a geek because I care about things like fashion and gossip; everybody else just cares about grades, or the glee club or whatever. Oh, and my attention to detail in the hygene department goes unnoticed here because it's required at this place. I'm a geek because I miss the feel of pom poms in my hands, the roar of the crowd - and I didn't even mind sharing the spotlight with the football team. Here at the fine institution that is Sword Up My Ass, I am a geek because out there, I wouldn't be.

There is one other student who doesn't snub me, though: this guy from Manhattan who sort of hates everything. I mentioned him before, right? Apparently, he's decided I have the gonads to be worthy of his respect. Ever since the yoghurt and fireworks incident (this would be when I tried to escape, and I  _still_ won't tell you about it), Adymm - that's how he spells his name, but between you and me I don't think it's like that on his birth certificate - started finding me between classes and chatting me up. He's a pretty... interesting guy, and definitely sharp, so we kinda started sharing and doing homework together and etcetera. Eventually, I found out why he was here, and I had him pegged for this before he told me, but he was a total goth freak two years ago. Yeah, the cripsy black hair, blue nail polish, fishnets-and-dog-collar type: all his t-shirts carried the banner of bands nobody else has heard of on them. I guess his parents did the same thing as mine and sent him here thinking it would straighten out his personality. Lordy love a duck, were they wrong; not only is he still as gothy as he can get away with being in Swords's drab jacket-and-tie ensemble, and not only does he still dream about playing the electric guitar again, but he seems to think our educational nightmare is just a cruel joke, and laughs about it every day. I think their actions may have turned him even further to the path of psycho.

But none of that's the problem, obviously; the thing is, he's... well, very persistent. Not that I would've had a problem with it, he's entitled to his own personality - the thing is, I found out when he started coming on to me. And it won't stop. It's really making me uncomfortable, but he doesn't seem to want to give up, even though I tell him again and again that I'm just not interested in him that way; either he wants the Chessler chassis real bad, or he's honestly head-over-heels in love with me. Don't ask me how goth brains work, I'm still a little unclear on many aspects of his thought process.

Hopefully you see what my big problem is now, though. I'm not really concerned about his feelings anymore, because I've tried letting him down easy  _and_ letting him down hard, and there's just no stopping him, so he's remarkably resilient. See, I don't have much experience in this area because if a random nerd actually got it into his head that he liked me back home, I'd have the jocks beat him up and that'd be it. Unfortunately, not only do I have no power here, but... this guy is actually my friend when he's not trying to get into my pants. He pretty much respects my boundaries and doesn't push the matter too far, but he certainly won't back down, either. I just don't know what to do, dammit!

Y'know, when I read through my memoirs from Westbridge, I have to laugh when I get to the parts where I said everything felt like an alternate reality... because  _this_ is Bizarro World for sure.

Speaking of Westbridge... I really wish I could ask her about this. And just in case you skipped my last volume (shame on you!), I'm talking about my best friend, Sabrina Spellman... the too-perfect person who softed up this stone princess and turned her into a human being. Alas, with the communication Nazis in this place there's no chance of that - except...

I found a loophole.

There's this thing they do for the students; for those of us who don't go home for the holidays (and even if my parents had wanted me to come home - which they didn't - I wouldn't want to see them), they let us go into Swords Village on both October 31st and December 24th as kind of our present from the school. There's plenty of cops driving around on our "free days", so we can't really leave the town and try to run away (damn!), but other than that it's our day to do random fun stuff, like maybe go to the arcade, or see a movie, or buy (non-scholastic) books or candy or whatever.

Oh, and so we can't buy anything crazy illegal, they confiscate all our money (if we have any) and give us these weird vouchers that are good at pretty much all the stores in town; the school then uses our money to reimburse them afterward. I mean, they still work for all sorts of stuff, like food and (appropriate) clothes and junk, but if we want to buy, for example, cigarettes: even those of us who are 18 will be refused if we try to pay with those vouchers. It's some big damn deal they made with the shopkeepers, and they had to agree before they set up there. Yay, our own currency, just like Disneyland!

Well, anyway, since Halloween I've saved up about a buck's worth of United States silver change; some of it I just found, some I traded students for (like, a dollar voucher for a real quarter - they jumped at the chance). And there's a payphone in town.

● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

"Libbs, I'm bored."

"C'mon, we have to find it..."

Adymm rolled his sunken eyes, playing with the lip ring he was finally allowed to put back in (for a day, and it seems to me like too much trouble to re-pierce that healed hole for a few measley hours of being "cool"). "Can't we just get some fries or something?"

"No - this is my only chance. Besides, I'm not hungry."

"Jesus, you were really into this girl, weren't you?"

I flushed. "Stop doing that! When will you understand she and I are rocking the bee-eff-eff casbah?"

"When you stop lying," he muttered with a smirk. "I mean, of course Libby; yeah, I know I go on for hours about my 'chums' and how they're the greatest thing since dirt, too. God, I just don't understand what she has that I'm missing."

"Restraint?"

His face scrunched up into that angsty face he's obviously had hours of practice with. "Hey, that night in the library, when you told me to stop with the-"

 _"Adymm!"_ I hissed, looking around; he just allowed himself a wicked smile. "We don't talk about that!"

"Anyway, I did as you ordered, my queen. What more do you want?"

"You to quit it," I hissed, turning down another snowy street. "Like life isn't hard enough."

"I'll never stop," he said, jumping on my shoulders and throwing his legs around my waist - this was his new favourite thing to torment me with when nobody was looking, ever since he found out that I could actually handle his insubstantial weight. "I will crusade onward until I've won over this fair maiden who carries me and my heart with her!"

"Get off, you pig!" I yelled, trying not to laugh - okay, so sometimes he was cute, which would mean a lot more to me if I was interested. You see what I mean? I can't just tell him to get lost 'cause he really is a good friend, even if he can't take a hint.

"Fine, fine, I get it. By the way," he said as he pointed, "I think there's one right there."

"Yes!" Never had a little blue box with an ugly black receiver inside made me so happy. "At long last, the day has come!"

"No, you don't sound gay at all," he murmured with a wry grin.

"Oh, shut up and get me some Yoplait or something," I said as I dug the change out of... well, wouldn't YOU like to know where I kept it? Then I got out a few vouchers. "And maybe a Frappuccino, I haven't had one of those in forever."

"Alright, I know when I'm not wanted." He got about five feet before he turned around. "What flavour?"

"Strawberry on the yoghurt... and I don't care what Frapp you get as long as it's real and it's coffee."

"Gotcha, red goo and caffeine. Say 'hi' to your ex for me!"

"SHUT UP!" But he was already gone.

This was it, the moment had arrived... I was finally going to be able to tell her everything I'd been thinking about for six months! It was like when we went to meet The Violent Femmes with Gordie and Sabrina's weird cousins, and we got right up to the front of the line, and we knew any second all that standing around would come to fruition. Maybe I WAS turning into a big geek, 'cause my hands were shaking as I put the quarters in... or maybe that was from the cold? It had taken me a lot of wheeling and dealing to get her number - hey, I wasn't friends with her long enough to get to that point - but I had it scrawled on a tiny slip of paper, and I knew what I was going to say. I had to; we only had like, ten hours in town total, and if I was missing for too long they'd get suspicious.

I do have to take a moment here and say this: how dare they tell us who we can and can't speak with? I mean, I get that they're trying to keep our minds on our studies, but you'd think we could at least use the phone during break, right? It's like Communism or something.

Anyway, the phone was ringing, and all I could do was hope against hope that-

"Hello?"

_END Chapter One_


	2. Freak Out And Touch Faith

My pulse started racing. What was my mental trauma?! "S-Sabrina?"

"Zelda, actually," the voice said. "Who may I ask is calling?"

Well, I wasn't dead, yet... "I-it's Libby - Libby Chessler? You probably don't rememb-"

"Of course I do," she laughed. "It's nice to hear from you, dear!"

"Um, you too, ma'am!"

"Sabrina tells us you've been going to an exclusive academy up North. It sounds exciting!"

"Yeah, it's really something, alright..." I felt so bad about trying to rush this conversation along, but there were more important things to say, here. "So, is she home?"

"Well, we're actually having something of a Christmas soirée here so it may take me a moment to find her... can you hold?"

"Yes, of course!"

It seemed like I stood there for years holding that phone, listening to laughter and... possibly reggae music in the background. What kind of party were they having? Just when I was about to hang up and try again...

"Yeah?"

"Sabrina!" I shouted, my heart pounding through my chest; there was no mistaking it this time, that was her voice! "Sabrina, is it really you?"

"What?" she shouted. "Hang on, let me find a quieter room!"

"Okay!"

A few seconds later, the background noise died away. "There. Sorry about that. Who is this?"

"It's me, Libby!"

A pause. "...oh!" Then she laughed, "Libby! I thought Aunt Zelda was saying a turkey baster was on the phone - they really need to turn it down!"

I laughed harder than I should have at that. "Oh, Sabrina, I missed you!"

"I missed you, too! Hey, did you get the letters?"

"Yeah," I said, leaning against the side of the phone booth-like thing. "They totally saved me from perpetual boredom up here, and I mean it."

"Aww... is it really that horrible?"

"You have no idea; it's like being in detention forever, but without all the merryment."

"Sounds delightful. So anyway, how'd you get away from the warden for your one phone call?"

"Let's just say it's a long story," I said truthfully. "Listen, I don't have a lot of time, and there's something I have to-"

" _AAAGHH!!!_ "

"What, what happened?!"

"I dunno, I just heard something break... or explode? Oh well, I'm sure my aunts can handle it. Anyway, what were you saying?"

"Well..." I glanced around again. "While I know I have time, I wanted to tell you some stuff that I would've written you about if I could have, but... well, y'know."

"Yeah, it's okay, Libby," she said softly. "You don't have to apologise for crap that's not even your fault."

"Okay... I just wanted to thank you for everything you did for me."

"What did I-?"

"Please, let me finish this while I've got the chance."

I picked up on the confusion. "Oh... okay, go ahead."

"The thing is, you got me through a really rough time, y'know, with my parents. Twice, even, from my mom yelling at me to them trying to kick me out. Sure, they ended up sending me to this snake pit, but I... I might not have made it this far if you weren't there for me. I've had a lot of time to think in here, and it hit me that I never really thanked you for that. So... thank you."

"Hey," her embarrassed voice mumbled, "it's what anybody would do."

"But  _you_ did it; your compassion was unflappable, despite how rotten I treated you. And you didn't stop there; you turned my life around, made me see what I was doing wrong. I mean, I was on track academically and stuff, but inside I was... well, I was like an expensive mansion with a broken furnace; with nothing to keep you warm, who'd wanna live there? And then you woke me up, you... lit my pilot light or whatever." This wasn't coming out right; what was I saying? Was it the below-zero air freezing my brain? "Listen, I just felt bad about never saying goodbye, and I wanted you to know that... I miss you."

There was a little pause before she quietly said, "I miss you, too, Libby."

"No, I mean... I miss the summer we didn't get, I miss how much fun we could've been having together in school this year. I... kinda need you."

When she spoke again, I could hear a slight waiver in her voice. "You do?"

"Yeah." Maybe this  _was_ too weird; I had to back it off. "I mean, well, as much as I can need a freak like you."

It worked; she laughed. "Right." Then coughed. "Yeah, it's kinda sucked here without you and Val; I am in dire need of... of replacement buddies or something. Hey, what are you doing for the rest of break?"

It was almost too painful to think about. "Studying and hanging around; I won't be coming home until after I graduate."

"Oh... well, maybe I could come up and see you?"

"Not an option," I half-croaked. "We can't have visitors other than our parents."

"Man, that place really puts the bite on everything, don't they?"

"Their motto is pretty much 'If you have fun, we'll eat our hats'."

She laughed. "Well, at least your trademark sense of painful humour hasn't been squashed."

"They can take my nail polish and they can take my Cosmo, but-"

"They took your Cosmo?!"

"Oh, I know! Aren't they such prudes?"

Just then, I heard a cough behind me; it was Adymm with my bottle and cup. He bought himself a chai lattИ and a warm pretzel. "Thanks."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing; Adymm just handed me a Frappuccino."

"Adymm, huh?" Her voice was suddenly dripping with innuendo. "Sounds like it's not  _all_ bad up here."

"Don't jump to conclusions," I muttered, trying not to make it too obvious I was talking about him while he was right behind me.

"Suuuuuure. Oh, shoot!"

"What?"

"Now I  _know_ I heard an explosion! I really should find out what's going on down there-"

"No!" I shouted, then tried to calm down. "But, it's so soon, and I-"

"I know, believe me..." The pain in her voice was very real. "I'm so sorry, Libby, I mean it... can you call me back sometime soon?"

"Maybe, but probably not... it's really hard to set up something like this around here."

"Criminy, can't you bust out of that concentration camp?"

"Oh, I've tried, believe me." When I heard something else shatter in the background, my words became rushed and sloppy... and yeah, they gained a certain amount of cheese factor. Don't judge me! "Listen, before you get back to all the excitement, I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas, and tell you that... well, even though I was only non-evil for about a month there, it was enough to tell me that you're an awesome person, and... and you're kinda my bes-"

" _WHOA!_  I'm really really sorry, I gotta go, Libby; I'll write you!"

"Wait! Sabrina, just lemme say g-"

"Please deposit thirty-five cents."

I blinked. "Huh?"

"Please deposit thirty-five cents." So that was it; I was out of change, and I probably couldn't get her back even if I had the money. The dead receiver slipped from my hand as I whispered into the wind.

"I just wanted to say... goodbye."

_END Chapter Two_


	3. Freakest Days

A few seconds passed before Adymm said, "Are you okay?"

"Sure... I got what I wanted, I guess. B-but..." And before I knew it, the tears were being frozen to my cheeks. "It wasn't enough. It wasn't enough time."

"I know," he said, putting his arm around my shoulders. "Come on, let's get you outta this cold."

You probably don't care because it's not that important, but Murdock's is a restaurant-slash-gift shop that everybody ends up in sooner or later during our free day in Swords Village. There's not much to it: tables, a crane game, and some gaudy merchandise, but it's nice and cozy, and their food is really good.

"You wanna talk about it?" he said when a hot cocoa was in front of me - he'd insisted.

"What's to talk about? Everything's just... well, bad."

"You couldn't maybe try elaborating on that...?"

"This place is a stifling cesspool of rude, callous buttmunchers who could care less about a girl's feelings!" I screamed; the other patrons looked up startled. "Uh, school, not Murdock's," I added, which seemed to calm them down so they could go back to their burgers.

"Smooth recovery, there."

"It happened again, Adymm." I ran my fingers through my hair, feeling helpless - two things I would never have done a year ago. "I'm never gonna get to tell her goodbye, am I?"

"Hey, look," he said uncomfortably, leaning forward. "Maybe it's like, kind of a sign; you haven't been able to tell her goodbye because you're not supposed to. Like maybe you should just be saying, 'see you soon'?"

"Maybe." It's pretty obvious he was just trying to placate me, but it was kinda working. "This whole thing is just bad, that's all."

"Nothing good  _ever_ happens in Swords."

"It is a crapfest up here."

We wiled away the rest of the afternoon swapping tales of our respective homes. Adymm kept throwing around alien terms like Stabbing Westward and Depeche Mode that held no meaning to me - remember, I'd never gone any more hardcore than Gordon Gano - but the stories were still pretty intense; he's done a lot of illegal things that made me feel dangerous just knowing about them. He told me I should check out some of his favourite bands when we're emancipated from all this - sounds like a lot of noise, but we'll see.

● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

A couple months crept by, and they were pretty much the same as the first months; dull and frustrating. Tests, choir, college applications and everything else kept me from feeling the loneliness, but it was still there, just lurking around the corner and waiting to strike me at bedtime, or in the shower, or any other time of the day my mind wasn't filled to the brim with other things.

But then there's Adymm and his relentless pursuit of me; he eventually dialed it down a little ( _very_ little), but he never stopped being my friend. We hung out as much as we could without making the administration think we were succumbing to the evils of not working for the Catholic church. Seriously, me in a habit? Ew!

Then one day, sometime in the middle of April I think, I got two very important pieces of mail. The first was from Sabrina, and the second from my so-called parents. I decided to open the second one first, so I could save the (hopefully) good news for last.

Here's what my mother's stupid letter said:

> _"Dear Libby,_
> 
> _We're sorry to have to tell you like this, but apparently you're not allowed to receive calls or visitors for reasons other than extreme emergencies. I really do wish we could do this some other way, but this is the best we can manage._
> 
> _Your stepfather has received a very generous job offer that pays nearly double his current salary; not only that, but it's his dream job, and he can't wait to get started. The bad news is that it's in Tokyo, Japan, and in order for him to take it he needs to start in two weeks. Unfortunately, this means we won't be able to pick you up from Swords when you graduate. I will try to fly back and see your ceremony if it's at all possible, but I'm not promising anything; it might take longer than that to settle in._
> 
> _You don't need to worry about where you'll be living, though - your father says his New York apartment will more than accomodate both of you if you choose to stay in the States, or I'd be happy to wire you the money for a ticket to Narita International (if I can't deliver it in person). Of course, you're a big girl now, and you may not need a place to stay, which is fine, also. I've left instructions with the administration to give you money for cab fare; you'll have plenty to get you back to Westbridge, and we'll be renting a storage garage for your car and all your things, so from there you can drive wherever you need._
> 
> _Now honey, I know you're probably upset about this, but realise we were put in a very difficult position, and Reed thought this would be best for the family. I hope you'll be able to forgiv-"_

...and that's where I crumpled it up and set it on fire. That is, I would've set it on fire if they allowed us to have anything that could create a flame. So I ate it.

Well, they sure did think of everything. Did you see how well-laid their evil scheme was? Not one detail missing or out of place. I wonder how long ago he really did get that offer - a week? A month? Maybe they've known since before they shipped me off to boarding school, and this holy hell I've been in was just a plan to get me out of the way so I wouldn't raise a stink.

Lucky for me it was Saturday and we had no classes, 'cause I could go rant and rave over this with Adymm. It turns out goths are really good at helping you brood and fume over something; we both bitched about our parents all afternoon, him giving me the right-of-way due to the recent letter and all. And when my anger finally broke, he held me while I sniffled (he looked really weirded out by it, though).

Japan. They were running off to  _Japan,_  of all the freaking places - and I didn't even get consulted! The worst part was that all this time I'd been missing Westbridge... and there was nowhere for me to stay there, not anymore. My choices were to leave my hometown, or leave the whole country. Perfect.

● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

I almost forgot about the other package, though - Giselle pointed it out to me the next morning. It depressed me a little, but also kinda cheered me up.

It was a yearbook. Precisely, my Westbridge yearbook from last year. Oh, I went over all the pages for hours! There were pictures of me and the girls cheering, Harvey sitting on the bench looking hot, and Sabrina and I winning that trophy at the science fair; I had to laugh at my slightly-disdainful expression. Then, when I already thought it was the best gift ever, I found something written in the front:

> _"Libby,_
> 
> _You were a worthy opponent, and a worthier friend; we all missed you this year. And you don't have to keep thanking me! Seeing you change, the way you became such a good-hearted person... that's all the thanks I need. You better look me up when you break outta Alcatraz - I can hardly wait to see you all grown up!_
> 
> _Shake your whammy fanny!  
>  Sabrina "The Freak" Spellman_
> 
> _PS: B.F.F.!"_

It was so short, and yet... everything I needed to hear. How does she  _DO_ that?!

And it got better - Harvey, Cee Cee, Jill, and even Mrs. Quick and Mr. Kraft all signed it, too (though Mr. Kraft's little note just said "Without you to help me keep them in line, all the students are virulent hellspawn"), along with at least a dozen other kids I knew, and some I didn't know. It was the best birthday present a girl could get, even if it was a few months late... almost like Sabrina had figured out a way to mail pure love. I was on cloud nine for a week.

Eventually, after the pure glow of it wore off, I fixated on the "B.F.F." at the end - I mean, I had come to think of her as my best friend, and maybe she had, too! And before you start chiding me, I know everybody writes that in yearbooks, even for people they hate, but... I couldn't help but wonder if she really meant it. Adymm thought I was being gay again.

But around then was when finals started drawing nearer and the teachers wanted us to know it, so I couldn't really think about it too much after that. But before the tests came something that really killed me - something I would've loved if it were anywhere but here.

Senior Prom. Or, in our case... the Spring Formal.

_END Chapter Three_


	4. The Way You Freak Tonight

Before I could think too hard about it and craft a reasonable excuse to go back to bed, I heard a knock. "Just a minute!"

I don't know how Adymm talked me into this. Wasn't there something less painful I could be doing, like... having my teeth drilled? I took one last look at my hair - which was perfect after many, many hours of labour - and opened the door.

"Wow," he says with a nervous laugh. "Libbs, I- I knew you were hot, but... wow."

"What? You like it?"

"You look amazing." His voice was almost a whisper. I rolled my eyes.

"Absolutely shameless, Koriander; you picked it out."

"Yeah, but you still have to pull it off - and trust me, you do." His elbow stuck out at me. "Mademoiselle?"

"Monsieur," I reply as I take it, trying not to laugh.

The grand ballroom looked... I guess "grand" is the only word for it. There have never been parties or dances like this in Westbridge, I can tell you that; glittering candelabras, a floor polished to mirrored perfection, and a string orchestra - a REAL orchestra! If I didn't know better, I'd say the champagne at the tables was real instead of sparkling cider.

How'd we look? Like relics of a bygone age, that's how. I had this violet Victorian-esque gown that probably cost a few hundred dollars; black lace, pearls, the works. Oh, and it turns out we're allowed makeup for stuff like this, which is... um, necessary? Adymm, on the other hand, was in some moldy old suit, with all the ruffles and an ascot and whatever. He looked pretty good for a painting from yesteryear, I guess. Thing is, these outfits were all his idea, to do something interesting and shake things up; I'd just as soon sit around in my room and skip the whole thing, but as long as he's paying for the garb...

Oh, I completely forgot to mention this before: Adymm's parents come from money. OLD money, and it's not being squandered away, either; they'll be rich indefinitely. He doesn't like to talk about them that much, but when he does, it's all about limousines and servants - all the things I've been aching for my whole life. That is, I guess I used to... having a bathroom to myself sounds luxurious these days.

That was one magical evening. The music, the lights, the scents on the air (was he wearing Tommy?)... it was so surreal, yet I knew it was more real than anything I've ever experienced... except maybe those days when I thought I'd be living on the street, which were  _too_ real.

A couple hours later found us at a table, downing the faux bubbly and laughing at the clumsier dancers.

"And that guy glides so gracefully down the halls..."

"I noticed." I rubbed my nose. "It's almost like he's got two different sets of legs, and tonight he's wearing the sucky pair."

"Yeah." There had been something he'd been skirting around all night, and I kept wondering what it was... until just about now. "Say Libbs..."

"Hmm?"

"You should come to New York."

I glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

"When we get out... you should come to New York. I mean, I don't know where your dad lives, but worst case scenario we'll be a couple of subway hops away from each other... and we could always meet up somewhere to hang out."

I shifted uncomfortably; that's what I thought. "Adymm, that's really sweet and all, but... but I don't think-"

That harsh, bitter laugh I alternately loved and hated to hear. "Yeah, I knew it was stupid. Forget it."

"No, it's just that-" I coughed. "I have no idea where I'm going to college. It really all comes down to that, y'know."

"Why do you even need college? You're hot, and you can sing; I keep telling you-"

"Look, freakboy," I said flatly, "I am  _NOT_ putting myself in front of the glare of cameras only to have Simon Cowell rip me a new one. Stop bringing it up, 'cause as much as I know I could win over a normal audience, that man gives  _no one_ a fair shake."

"Okay, so forget Hollywood, Miss Ivy League. What do you want to do?"

I fidgeted absentmindedly with my champagne flute. "...I dunno? I thought I'd figure it out when I get there."

"Well, it's not like you're too dumb, and I have proof."

"I still don't know how you found those acceptance letters, you little sneak."

He turned to look more directly at me, eyes rolling around like a gyroscope. "How can you be embarassed by getting into everywhere? I mean, Princeton, Cornell, Adams, Harvard-"

"I didn't get into Yale." Grasping at straws much?

"Screw Yale, then! More importantly, you got into Columbia, which means you could just commute from your dad's. Kinda takes care of everything, doesn't it?"

"Oh, there's incentive; go to school in beautiful, scenic Harlem."

"It's not as bad as it sounds!"

" _Suuuure_ it isn't."

He sighed. "So no Columbia. I still say you should really think about-"

"Don't even say-"

"Juilliard."

I gritted my teeth. "Would you quit it? I am not  _that_ good, and we both know it."

"No, we don't! Your voice is killer, and they'd be lucky to have you - hell, I'd try to recruit you if I thought you'd ever stoop to singing rock."

"Adymm-"

"Look, girl," he said as he leaned back, "all this crap might sound damn confusing now, but... well, you got options. Me, I'm barely making a B average, so it'll take a miracle to get me into NYU, or even Queens College."

"Well, it's not because you're stupid - you're just too stupid to care."

"That's right," he said grinning, "I don't care. My path in life has been predestined, and it involves strings and amps, not pencils and books. For me, the college thing is just a way to kill some time, appease the parents and learn a possible backup skill for when my career hits a slump."

"Your career  _is_ a slump."

"Oh, go die."

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He was right about one thing: I wasn't sure what to do with my life. This whole boarding school deal is a lot more distracting than I thought it would be, and when I wasn't caught up in the academics of it all or being an island unto myself, I still wouldn't be thinking about college because it seemed so... unimportant, or far away or something.

But the whole conversation helped me make up my mind; Columbia University. Neighbourhood notwithstanding, it's a very well-reputed Ivy League, and (thanks, Adymm) I could live with my father while attending. If I wanted to transfer after the first year, I'd have plenty of time to formulate a game plan, but right now I just didn't have accurate resources or time... nevermind that it was easier to deal with finals and all that without one more decision hanging over my head.

Still... Harvard was tempting. Not only because they're the best - period - but going there would mean I'd be like, a stone's throw from Sabrina. If I wasn't so set on going Ivy, I could go to Adams and be right in her backyard! Then again, I didn't know her post high school plans, but as long as her aunts live there I could at least stop by and see her at Christmas. It was a nice thought, and one I intended to think hard about over the next year.

Even worse than all this was the fact that I still had no idea what I wanted to be... a physicist or a doctor? Too much math. A lawyer, maybe? I could definitely see myself as a courtroom shark (prosecutor all the way!), but it also sounded stressful. A fashion designer? Sure, but what are the odds of me making it?

Juilliard... no way. Maybe I have a good voice, but they only take the best of the best - I have a better shot in the fashion world.

The future definitely felt less than solid to me. All I knew for sure was that I was smart, sensible, beautiful... and completely clueless.

_END Chapter Four_


	5. Libby La Vida Loca

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to quickly reiterate that I'm so very, very sorry for the horrendous chapter titles. They're not going to get any better, either.

All those musings were probably really boring, huh? Sorry! Let's skip ahead...

Graduation was all pomp and ceremony; the orchestra was there again, and everybody was dressed up in these ugly robes; it was ghastly. Well... okay, at the same time it was kinda satisfying and emotional, but whatever. I was nervous as hell before I sang. Oh that's right, I almost forgot to mention that they wanted me to sing something for everybody! After a lot of arguing and screaming, we settled on a slightly altered rendition of Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here"; incidentally, learning it made me kinda start to like the band. Anyway, it was special, everybody clapped... weird. No, I'm used to being applauded, that much will never change, but this was... different. This time it was like I had truly earned it, not just stood up there and been congratulated on how pretty I am. It made me feel really good.

Based on reading the rest of my life story, I shouldn't need to tell you that Mother didn't show up. No, I was the only member of my family present, so I gave myself a big hug and told me this was the beginning of a whole new adventure, and that I'd always be there for me. I was so proud of me, too...

Adymm's parents were exactly as he described: rich, well-mannered, and pretentious. Luckily, his mother got the whole ceremony on tape, so at least somebody filled  _that_ parental role for me. His little sister Ava was somebody I could have related to before Sabrina altered my personality on a molecular level - all lip gloss and pastels, almost as deep as a wading pool. Of course, I could still carry on a conversation with her, but a year in solitary had left me somewhat behind in the fashion arena.

I'll save your poor brain the guesswork; yes, I cried during The Walk. Duh!

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"Ahh... at long last, freedom!"

The morning after the ceremony was my final day waking up on that rigid mattress in Swords Private Academy (thank God). My bags were packed, my cab fare and storage key were in my purse, I was dressed in more appropriate civilian gear, and all my ducks were in a row. Only one thing left to do...

Adymm was waiting for me in the foyeur, hands in his pockets; I could see the administration throwing him furtive looks due to his attire. Personally... yeah, I had to gasp myself.

"What the hell are you wearing?!" I hissed.

He grinned through his black lipstick. "Doesn't this rock? In fact, I'm gonna steal Dad's little disposable camera he brought to get a picture of me looking like this in front of the building, just to show that on one single day, I got to look like myself in this school."

I had to shake my head and laugh, because he looked amazingly ridiculous. Baggy black jeans, fishnet sleeves, a blood red vest (a  _vest?!_ ) over one of those whoever-band tees, heavy black boots, and all sorts of spikes and chains protruding from everywhere. It was like Edward Scissorhands cranked up to ten. "I cannot be seen with you looking like that."

That bitter laugh. "Yeah, it doesn't feel quite the same as it did before... I think I'll try blending this with a more toned-down look, condense it down into my 'new style'. It really is hideous, isn't it?"

On second glance? "Well, maybe not 'hideous'... but I am getting this 'trying too hard' vibe."

"Thought so. Ah well, I can be the old me for a day." He looked me up and down. "But what are  _you_ wearing?"

"Oh, uh..." Now I felt nervous; everything I had on was probably really tacky and outdated now. "Just what I was wearing when I got here."

"Me too, but I didn't look like a-" He seemed to realise he was heading down a dangerous road. "I mean, I just... I dunno, I pictured you wearing stuff a little less..."

"Princessy?"

"Yeah, that's the word... if it is a word." He half-smiled in fear. "Don't kill me for dogging on the royal garments, my queen?"

"Oh, shut up," I said, smoothing out my shirt. "I just need to get to the Gap, pick up a Seventeen... get reacquainted with the world of style."

"Ahh, who cares what they think? Just find what  _you_ think looks good and get five pairs."

"And I suppose that's what you did?"

"Well... I had this three years ago, and last summer was the last time I was allowed to wear it. Don't worry, I'll be reevaluating plenty in the next couple months."

"I guess we both will."

And quite without warning, it reared up and bit us on the asses - the goodbye.

"Yep, I guess this is it," he said with a sigh, nodding and looking at his boots.

"Yeah."

We both stood around for a minute before I heard a car horn go off outside. "That sounds like my parents' Benz," he muttered.

My eyes widened, mouth already beginning to water. " _B-B-BENZ?!_ "

A re-pierced eyebrow went up as I followed him out. "They can match Trump's checkbook blow for blow; what'd you expect?"

"Right, right..." Trying not to betray how close I had come to wetting myself, I cleared my throat and continued, "So, uh, let's go take that picture, maybe?"

"I thought you didn't wanna be seen with a freak like me."

I couldn't resist a small smile. "Haven't you figured out by now that I'm a freak groupie?"

"Ahh, so that explains it..."

"Explains what?! ...hey, c'mon, tell me!"

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We did take the picture - all three of us. See, Giselle started bawling when she saw me leaving; I asked her what was wrong, and as it turns out, she thought we were bestest friends... she just had a very nonexistant way of showing it before that day. So yeah, we all crowded in and Adymm's dad reluctantly snapped us in front of the giant oaken doors of Swords. It was sweet, in a twisted kinda way.

Hugs were shared, tears were shed, and "See you soons" were said optimistically in place of goodbyes. Then I was off, vowing never to bother with class reunions for that crappy place.

Back in Westbridge, I tried to look up Jill and Cee Cee only to find out they and some of the other girls were in Cancun - kind of a "School's Out For Summer" fling. Too bad they didn't wait for me; it sounded like fun. Oh, well.

The one thing that went completely right while I was there is my visit to Gran. Oh, she was the same as ever - warm and doting, and ready with a bowl of those butterscotch candies she loves so much. We swapped stories of the last year, she really pooh-poohed my parents' descision to up and go abroad without me (which I was very pleased with), and topped it off by catching the tail end of some Bogart flick on Turner Classic. She invited me to stay for a game of canasta, but there were a few other things to do before I called it a day, so I told her I'd come back real soon.

The sweet old girl slipped $20 into my purse when she thought I wasn't looking, too... but I slipped it right back into her candy dish. Let's just call it tradition.

It took me forever to find the storage facility, but when I did they checked my driver's license and showed me to my little garage. What a mess - all my crap had been tossed in boxes, and I was sure at least a few boxfulls were missing entirely. My car was thankfully under a tarp, so no dust to worry about there; I got to work right away sorting out what I needed and didn't.

I was shocked at everything I threw out. Seriously, I thought I'd love to get back to all that junk, but that's exactly what it was - junk. The teddy bears, and all those pictures of myself, and it was all just so useless! Gran had offered to mothball a few less-necessary things in her garage until I could get my own place someday, and I figured I might take her up on that. I decided to keep some of the clothes that weren't  _too_ dated, and family pictures and a few other things that are too private or embarassing to mention here, but a lot of it was going to go to Goodwill.

And then I came across the ribbon.

"Second Place in the 1999 Westbridge High School Science Fair," I read aloud to no one. "Heh." On a whim, I tied it to my rearview mirror; it looked nifty there.

The wave of nostalgia almost bowled me over - I had to see her. These pangs hit me all the time, but never so bad as then; it was overwhelming when talking to her was actually a possibility. Without needing to think, I threw all my stuff in the car and drove off toward the Spellman homestead.

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"Not again..." I was pounding so hard I thought I'd break the door down. "IS ANYBODY HOME?!"

The door creaked open. "Yes?"

"Oh - Hi, Ms. Spellman!"

"Hilda." It was the Aunt that didn't like me; I introduced myself politely, even though I'm sure she remembered.

"It's me, Libby Chessler. Is Sabrina here?"

"Nope," came the terse reply. "Bye!"

"Wait!" She waited. "Um... will she be back soon?"

Reluctantly, she stopped to explain. "I don't think so... her appointment was at two, and it's only two-ten now, so-"

"Appointment?"

"With the shrink." Then she slapped her hand to her mouth. "Oops!"

"Shrink?!" I was sure I didn't hear her right. "What do you mean, 'shrink'?!"

"Drat! I'm such a ditz!" She paced nervously into the living room, and I followed close behind.

"Ms. Spellman, please, be straight with me... is she really at a psychiatrist's office?"

"Yes," she said miserably, plopping down on the sofa. "I didn't mean to let it slip out, though. Oh, she's gonna kill me for this..."

"But... why does she need one? Are you sure? She couldn't need therapy... maybe-"

"It's because of Harvey."

"Harvey? What about him?"

She glanced up at me, eyebrows knitted. "You don't know?"

"Know  _what?!_ " When she fidgeted again, I continued, "There's no point in hiding it from me; I'm still connected to the Westbridge grapevine. What's wrong with Harvey?"

"They broke up, sweetie... Harvey left her a few weeks ago."

_END Chapter Five_


	6. The Libby That Never Sleeps

"No way," I gasped.

"Yeah," Hilda said helplessly. "It was real sudden-like; Sabrina took it kinda hard."

An awful thought occurred to me. "She's not, like... suicidal or anything, is she?"

"Of course not!" She looked affronted. "What a horrible thing to say!"

"Just making sure," I said quickly. "I mean, those two went out for like, forever."

"Yeah... it really is a shame, I used to like that boy."

"How could he do this to her? Doesn't he know how special she is?!"

Hilda glanced at me. "And you do? News to me."

"Well... yeah, I mean, she really helped me through a rough patch last year." I sighed. "Look, I know I was less than kind to her for... well, always, but I'm not the same diva I was then; the past year has changed me, and now-"

"Okay, okay," she mumbled, waving her hand. "I'll catch the Lifetime movie."

"Right, sorry." Rude. "But seriously, what bug crawled up Harvey's butt?"

"Oh, he uh... he didn't like the way Sabrina and that friend of his didn't get along." I wasn't sure if I believed her or not, but it sounded plausable... and at the time, she was my only source of information. "Guess that whole 'guys stick together' code kicked in, and kicked her out."

"That's terrible! Where is that Kinkle? He's going to get a rude awakening from yours truly!"

"I'm not sure, exactly... I don't even know if he'll be enrolling in college or not. He's not about town right now, in any case."

Ignoring the fact that she sounded a thousand years old saying "about town", I sunk down in the cushion next to her. "Is she really bad off?"

"In a funk, yeah... but don't worry, the whole therapy thing's voluntary; it's only to help her deal. This ain't gonna turn into a Bobbit situation or anything."

"Oh God, ew!"

"Sorry!" Hilda moaned, squeezing her eyes shut. "That was bad! Me and my big mouth!"

"So... yeah, and... yeah." Clearing my throat, I folded my arms and moved on from that awful subject. "I have to admit, though, I'm really floored, here. Harvey dumping Sabrina? Seriously, it seemed like their relationship would be the one to last 'til the end of time."

"Guess they'll always have Paris... or The Slicery, anyway." Her eyes squinted at me. "Say, you really must have changed; you almost sound like you give a rat's tail."

"I do." Suddenly this all felt very weird; I was sitting here, shooting the breeze with Sabrina's aunt. "I mean, I know it's so totally bad-movie-cliché, but Sabrina kinda got my conscience back on track, and... I dunno, she's just really cool."

"Hmm." Then she stood up and smoothed out her pants. "Well, cool or uncool, one thing she isn't is here. Can you come by later?"

"Wish I could... but I gotta hit the highway. Road tripping it to New York."

"Oh, really? That sounds nice... business or pleasure?"

"The end of my life," I groaned.

"Business," she nodded, opening the door for me. "Well, you could always call her when you get there, I'm sure she'll be home by then."

"Yeah... yeah, I think I'll do that."

"Bye, then."

And again, I left her house when she wasn't even there. Oh, why was the world against me?

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Guess you probably wanna hear about The Big Apple, now. What's to say? Dad has an apartment on the West Side of Manhattan (in Chelsea, if you must know every detail); it's pretty nice, but I really didn't want to be there because it's weird. I mean, I haven't even seen him in like, three years, and he's not even there when I get into town? The key was under the mat, though, so it's not like I had to wait around in the hallway.

David Chessler is... a little snarky sometimes, but more or less a decent guy. His passion is writing; he does articles for a small-time paper that shall remain nameless, but his real deal is science-fiction novels (which I never read because... ew?). Evidently he's not bad at it, as it's enough to rent and furnish that apartment of his and keep food in the fridge. To address the strangeness of living with him all of the sudden... I learned quickly not to bother him while he was on his laptop, because I'd get an earful. We'd chat over dinner, and we both watched that Buffy show (he liked all the paranormal crap, I liked the dialogue and the characters) so we at least had something we could stand to watch together besides Jeopardy and the Weather Channel. Definitely a huge adjustment all around, but we got there.

Watch out - we're going to gloss over whole chunks of my life at a time, now.

The rest of my summer was spent waitressing at this quaint Italian restaurant a couple blocks down from my dad's place, trying to earn myself a little nest egg and keep busy in the process. Scapelli's is fun in a way, but mostly exhausting and a pain in the butt; my boss was a round man with a bad combover who thought I should be "grateful for the experience", and while some of the other waitresses were friendly enough, most of the cooks were barbarians. So yeah, it was a job.

Oh, this really bit the wax tadpole - I had to sell my car. Yeah, it was heartbreaking - you have NO idea - but you just don't need wheels in Manhattan. The subway, though sometimes smelly and unpleasant, was pretty much the only way to get from point A to point B (or  _train_ A to B?) without taking all day, and there's always a cab if you need more flexible transportation. Getting rid of my baby meant I really had nothing of my own anymore save a few knicknacks... but my nest egg grew considerably that day.

After a few weeks, I got in touch with Adymm. Serendipity abounds, because it turns out he lives in the Village, which (I now know) isn't at all far from my dad's. We started hanging around when we had the chance; he didn't have a job yet, but a constant amount of practice with his band, In Absinthia, kept him busy enough. Their bassist's dad owns an auto repair shop, so they could set up in there after hours and "jam", I think is what they call it... whatever. Anyway, I even dropped by a few times to check them out, and for grinding noise and screamy vocals from some guy with a spiky mohawk named - get this - Killvein, they're not half bad.

What else? Uhh, Rockefeller Center, Times Square, some off-Broadways... learned to carry Mace in certain areas of Hell's Kitchen (not the hard way, don't worry). Everybody says this, but there's just so much to do there: art galleries, cafés, shops, Central Park - all sorts of things that you can only do in New York, or at least there's a heck of a lot more of it there. Oh, and really,  _really_ amazing bagels, not to mention the pizza. It wasn't my beloved Westbridge, but as far as I'm concerned it was the next best thing.

I guess I liked it. A little.

The weather started to get colder, and with it came the evil college. Thanks to the substantial influence his family wields, Adymm just barely got into N.Y.U., which is practically in his backyard, anyway; meanwhile, it was off to Columbia for me. General studies and work kept me busy, and though I started learning what I liked and didn't like, my life would be seriously thrown off-track one fateful night in October. Well, that's not exactly fair; it wasn't so much derailed as given a very interesting change in direction...

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"Libby?"

"Yeah, Dad?" I was just coming in the door; his back was to me on the couch, but the cordless phone was held straight up for me to grab.

"Phone for you; that Adymm kid."

"Thanks," I said, snatching it as I headed through the dining room. "Hello?"

"Libby, thank God! We need your help!"

"You can count on me, Comissioner Gordon!" I replied with false bravado. "Is Catwoman at it again?"

"Will you cut it out? I'm serious, here!"

"Sorry..." I padded into the kitchen to get a glass of water. "What is it?"

"Okay, listen; I know it's really short notice, but... well, we have a show tomorrow night at the Cobra Pit, and Killvein has laryngitis."

"He what?! That's terrible!" Maybe I was being less than truthful, but I did feel bad for Adymm.

"Yeah, I know; and this gig is sold out, too! Sure, we're opening for Mad Crow Disease, but we'll be heard by like, a thousand people - and we can't get heard if we can't go on!" I could almost hear him running his hand through his hair. "He's trying gargling and VapoRub and stuff, but it's not helping."

I leaned against the counter. "Geez, that really sucks - what are you gonna..." That's about where it hit home. "No. Ohhhh, no no NO."

"Couldn't you sit in for us, just this once?"

_END Chapter Six_


	7. I Freak I'm Paranoid

"C'mon, Libbs - if you do this for me, I swear I'll never ask for another-"

"No."

"Please? I mean it, we need y-"

"No!"

_"PLEEEEEEASE?!?!"_

"Pull yourself together, Koriander!!!" I took a deep, calming breath. "Jesus, you sound like Roger Rabbit! Look - not only is this your worst idea ever, but I have to work tomorrow night. Therefore, you might as well save it; In Absinthia will just have to find another temporary frontman- uhh, frontperson."

"Dammit!"

"Sorry. But hey, I couldn't pull off Killvein's growling thing, anyway - you know that."

He laughed despite himself. "I guess you're right about that... you growling would sound pretty strange, and nevermind how it'd look."

We both laughed. "I am sorry, Adymm, really."

"Eh, whatever. It's just that, well, you were the first person I thought of that could actually sing. I could take a stab at it, but I suck."

"Yeah, you do." Don't look at me that way, he knew by then that it was just fact. "But maybe you can find somebody else in time?"

"Nobody that already knows our songs..."

"Yeah..." I coughed. "Well, good luck, anyway."

"Thanks... hey, drop by the show if you can make it - doors at seven-thirty."

"Mr. Scapelli, let me off work? When pigs fly. See ya!"

"Later."

As I brought the phone back to the base unit, my dad asked me, "What was all the screaming about?"

"Oh, nothing... his band's vocalist lost his voice and they needed somebody to fill in for tomorrow night."

"Sounds like a hoot."

"No," I said quickly. "I mean, they're kind of this metal-goth-rock thing, and my voice is just not cut out for that genre; I'm more of the opera singer slash pop diva."

He glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah, well, so was Pat Benatar... but I guess that's a little before your time. Ooh, Sliders is on..." And I'd lost him.

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This might not surprise you, but I wrestled with my hasty (though entirely justified) decision all night. He'd sounded so desperate that my heart had to go out to him... and while the whole thing might be a terrible idea, I did know the lyrics of their songs well enough to fake my way through a set. As a result, it took me a long time to drop off... and even then, all my dreams were about finding myself onstage in front of a field of black eyeliner, then discovering I was naked. Oh, and this giant banana kept floating by...

The next morning, I finally woke up at about nine to a call from my boss. He needed me desperately to come in like, immediately; turns out Vicki's car broke down and he ended up with just Susanne waitressing, so he needed me to switch shifts in a hurry before the lunch rush kicked in. I had no real plans for that morning, so I reluctantly agreed... providing I was off by five. After calling Vicki back, he said she'd for sure be there by then, so me and my apron flew out the door ay-ess-ay-pee. On the way there, I kept looking toward the skyline, thinking I might spot a pig or two...

Let's skip the workday - it was a mess, I was a mess, it was less than fun.

After dropping by the apartment for a quick shower, I was about to plop down and see if any good movies were on cable when I saw the answering machine flashing at me; my dad had been out all day, so I guess he missed the call, too. I reached over and slapped the button.

"Hey, Libbs, it's Adymm - look, I know you already said no because you can't growl, but we're getting really desperate, here. I thought Stinky Larry might be up for this, but he's in like Fiji or whatever, and Denver's in the hospital with a cracked rib, and Jim James says smoking killed his vocal cords, and... and it's just bad, okay? I'm trying not to freak out here, but we could really use you; you don't have to growl or anything like that, just do a couple songs Libby-style and call it a night. Crap, I gotta go help load gear into the van - if you hear this after work, I guess it's too late, but I thought I'd try one more time. Thanks, bye!"

My life is never easy...

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The Cobra Pit is one of the more medium-sized venues in the Village; run-down and dingy, but big enough for about six hundered to fit comfortably... more if packed in like sardines. The place was still empty when I got there, and sound guys and other techs were running around inside, making sure everything was ready.

When Adymm spotted me through the front door, he ran over and dragged me inside; the security guard gave him a look, but he said, "She's the emergency vocalist - just let us through!"

Backstage was much dingier than the rest of the club, though I could see hints of nostalgia all over - stuff written on the walls, bumper stickers. I saw something illegible that had been carefully framed - evidently, some guy from Nine Inch Nails wrote it in a drunken stupor many years ago.

Once inside the smaller of the dressing rooms, Adymm hugged me. "Oh, thank God you made it!"

"Hey, cool yourself," I said, shoving him away. "I'm very unsure about this..."

"Let her breathe," Milnot said from where he was flipping through a magazine. Aside from Adymm, he was the most personable member of the group, even if his stage name was a baking ingredient. As far as drummers go, he's not half bad, I guess. "You crush her windpipe and we're  _really_ up shit's creek. Hey, Libb."

"Hi, all."

"This cheerleader priss can sing?" Greg asked; he was their keyboardist, programmer, and more or less the brains behind the whole group. He was also our token Briton, and could be a colossal prick when he wanted to. "Not just in the shower, mind you?"

"Maybe not the way you want me to," I mumbled, rubbing my arm absentmindedly. This whole thing was already giving me stage fright.

"Don't worry, she can do it," Adymm said. "Rock's not usually her thing, but she's definitely got some real vocal chops, trust me."

"Will you guys shut up and listen to me for a second?" I was trying to make one last plea for myself. "I'm not sure how I would even begin to sing you guys' stuff, and trying might only make things worse, so maybe this whole thing isn't such a-"

"We have to eat," Greg said simply. "Not all of us are rich sods like Adymm; if we go on out there and it doesn't come together, at least we've been paid."

God, I'm stupid.

An hour later, the doors flew open and the goths and punks started trickling in. Meanwhile, I was backstage pouring over the lyric sheets Adymm had printed out that morning, hoping I could remember all the words I usually forgot, and converting Killvein's grunts and screams into my own musical dialect through urgent practice. Greg would walk by and shake his head, Milnot would walk by and nod... and those kind of mixed signals just made me feel more and more nervous.

You know what else made us nervous? T.Q., the bassist. He made us nervous because he wasn't there yet. We tried calling his place, his dad's garage, and his girlfriend's apartment, but he was nowhere to be found - in fact, his girl seemed to be freaking out, too. Of course, about twenty minutes before we were supposed to go on, he barged in.

"Where the  _bloody hell_ have you  _BEEN?!_ " Greg shouted, grabbing him by the collar. "We were ready to take out a  _hit_ on you!"

"Get off me!" he growled. "I'm sorry, alright? I had to score some; I was running low, and I kind of got turned around and lost track of time..."

They all rolled their eyes. It was then that I noticed a bag of white powder sticking out of his pocket...

"Not this again," Adymm breathed, grabbing me by the arm. "Let's get out of here for a second."

"Where are  _you_ lot going?" Greg barked.

"Some air," he replied shortly. "Giving the new girl a pep talk."

"Right, well, you and Trendy Spice had better be back in under five... or else."

"Yeah." With that, he pulled me down the hall and out the back door, into the crisp Autumn air. With a furtive glance at me, he pulled out a beat-up old pack of Newport Lights and lit one up; see, I think he thinks I don't notice that sometimes he smokes when he's especially stressed. "You okay?"

"Uh, yeah," I said quietly, trying not to cough. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I'm sorry about T.Q.," he went on, leaning against the brick wall and letting out a plume of smoke. "We're always trying to get him to quit, and he does, but it never takes."

"Okay, and I guess you can relate, but... why am I out here?"

"Because you shouldn't have to watch that. I'm sure both him and Milnot were gonna do a couple lines; Milnot may not be an addict, but sometimes he likes to get a little buzz before shows."

"Oh." Perhaps it hadn't hit me that not only were there drugs in the room, but they might be using them right in front of me. "I, uh..."

"Look... if you don't want to do this now, it's okay; I never should've asked you to come down to this hellhole and make-"

"Hey, Prince Valiant," I interrupted, folding my arms (partly against the chill). "I appreciate you looking out for me, but I'm a big girl, I can handle it. I've watched enough Behind The Music to know what goes on backstage."

"I was just-"

"I know." I smiled at him. "Seriously, it's sweet; you're a stand-up guy. But I want you to understand that I'm okay. Now, let's go back before Greg opens fire on the crowd."

"As you wish, my queen," he said with a shy grin. And in we went... him to business as usual, and me to certain death.

_END Chapter Seven_


	8. You Can't Stop Freak And Roll

When I peeked through the space between the curtains, I was shocked; almost a thousand people were crammed into that tiny little room. I guess those Mad Crow guys were halfway decent.

They say a real lady never sweats, but I still consider myself to be a lady, despite the rivlets that were running down every part of my body (sorry if that's kinda gross and unnecessary). It didn't help that Adymm had insisted on spraying some purple streaks into my hair, shellacked white and black stuff all over my face (and nails), and ripped the sleeves off some old leather jacket he dug out of the lost-and-found for me to wear... and I already had purple pleather pants on.

"Think of it this way," he said as he teased my hair up with AquaNet. "If this doesn't work and we sound terrible, at least nobody will ever recognise you."

"I guess that's true," I sighed. "But it'll take me all night to get this goop off!"

"You sure you won't reconsider the fishnet sleeves?" As an afterthought, he clamped a spiky bracelet onto my wrist. "I mean, at least that tube top thing is white so it has good contrast with the jacket, but-"

"Leave it alone! I'm already enough of a fashion faux pas without making things worse!"

"I still think-"

"Do you know you sound just a tad queer?"

That shut him up. Well, it might also have been that time had run out, and the audience was starting the slow clap to get us to kick off the show. Before I knew what was happening, I was being herded onstage along with the rest of the band, and the audience started cheering half-heartedly (I know nobody ever cares about opening bands, but it's a little humbling on the band's end). My heart jumped into my throat; it was the first time I'd been on stage like this in a long while - since that high school talent show when I fronted for Sabrina's band (nevermind all that, it was a weird night... then again, so was this).

"Good evening," Greg began. "We are In Absinthia - minus one."

"Uh, what he means is," T.Q. said, leaning into his microphone, "we have a guest vocalist tonight - standing in for Killvein is... is..."

"Cheerless Chessler!" Adymm announced. I felt all the blood drain from my face.

Down below the stage, the crowd gave us some support, hoping for a good distraction while waiting for their beloved Mad Crows. T.Q. started playing the bassline for "Epoch", and Adymm jumped in after a few seconds... but I blanked. As hard as I concentrated, the lines wouldn't come to me; all I could think about was all those faces down there that were about to turn real ugly (uglier?), real fast.

We were losing them. The music was playing too long without going anywhere. Adymm leaned over and hissed, "C'mon, Libby, you can do this!"

"No," I whispered back frantically, "I- I- I can't remember the first line! I can't remember any of them! What are we gonna do?!"

He watched me experiencing my panic attack for a few more seconds, and when he couldn't stand it any longer, he made the motion to the other guys to cut the music and walked over to tell Milnot something. Instantly, the boos and hisses started; I could feel that pre-crying lump forming in my throat...

"Change of plans," he said into the mic.

And then I heard it. The single notes quickly gave way to the chords, and even though it had a LOT more edge to it coming from his axe, I knew what he was doing - Adymm was playing the opening of "Wish You Were Here".

"So..." I began, slowly warming up to it; this I knew, I could do it in my sleep. "So you think you can tell..." By the time the drums kicked in, the whole audience was listening. Finally, I got to the break in the vocals and stepped back, mouthing "Thank you" to Adymm; he merely smiled.

What I didn't expect - and it almost messed me up - was for the crowd to start cheering when I stepped back up and belted out the chorus. They were still a little on the fence, and it was just a Floyd cover, but Adymm's ploy worked - we didn't bomb completely, and at that point it smelled like success.

After the applause died down, I decided to do a little something I needed to bolster my confidence further. "Thanks," I said into the mic. "Roger Waters probably hates me, now." Scattered laughs. "Seriously, it's not every day I get up here and look like an idiot, so if you bear with us we might be able to get some serious rock going." As they clapped (and one guy wolf-whistled), I turned behind me. "Okay... try that one again."

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The obvious end to this story is that we played the whole set perfectly, and everything rocked, and they all loved us, and a record label exec was in the crowd and signed us to a twelve-album contract right there on the spot, and we went on to rule the world. Well, that's not  _exactly_ what happened, but we did okay.

They seemed to like us; everybody at least clapped a little, and some of them were really cheering like we were good. As the concert wore on, I got more and more ambitious with my vocals, remembering what my dad had said about Pat Benatar earlier; it was like I'd known all along how to sing rock, and all I had to do was try it to find out. I only stumbled once with a lyric in the fourth song, but I laughed it off and the audience laughed with me. The guys played great, as always, and even though T.Q. kept trying to crowd-surf, we mostly made it through about seven songs with very minimal snafus. We actually kinda won them over! The proof that we did well? The merchandise table's stock of In Absinthia bumper stickers and t-shirts sold out! Of course, Greg only brought about ten of each and they weren't that expensive...

The unreal thing was, after we packed up their gear and loaded it into T.Q.'s van, we went out into the crowd to watch Mad Crow Disease play... and got mobbed. It was only about a dozen people, but it was still pretty cool; they all wanted us to sign ticket stubs and pose for pictures with them and stuff. At first I refused since I wasn't really part of the band, but Adymm just shoved a Sharpie into my hands and said, "Go with it, Libbs!" So I did, the "fans" loved my hair (are they blind?!), and it was a blast. This whole thing felt like being back on the sidelines of our homegames, and I could definitely see getting used to that again.

After that, we hit up a late-night coffee house to wind down; I had a caramel capp that was to die for, though that might just have been because it was the best night ever. We laughed and joked for at least two hours, swapping stories and glowing over our self-proclaimed victory until we noticed the time; Greg had work at the deli early the next morning, so we said our goodbyes and headed our separate ways. Well, almost...

"So, did it suck as bad as you thought?" Adymm asked me as we walked toward the subway.

"Shut up, you know it didn't," I muttered. "Shameless."

"Why shouldn't I be? We rocked!" Overcome by a moment of redoubled excitement, he suddenly swept me up and spun me around.

"Whoa!" I laughed, feeling more exhilirated that I care to admit. "What's got into you?"

"You!" he said, setting me down. "You saved our asses tonight, and far exceeded all expectations in the process! You're like, a gift from Buddha or something!"

"Geez, why don't you marry me, already?"

"I might if you let me."

The conversation stopped dead, and I could see it in those dark blue eyes - it had just slipped out before he knew what he was saying, and it was eons too late to reel it back in. We stared at each other for what seemed like hours; I'm pretty sure a bum walked by and picked my pocket while this was going on. Finally, I cleared my throat.

"Um, I'm sorry... what?"

He seemed to notice his hands were still on my hips, but didn't move them away. "I- I just mean that, uh... Libby, I think- I think I'm in love with you."

Our eyes locked, bodies tensed; I could feel one of his hands moving up to my cheek as mine moved up his back. "Adymm..."

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Uhhhhh, you don't get to know this part. Sorry!

Okay, that might be a little  _too_ extreme, so I'll give you this much: we did kiss, and it was under a streetlight, and it was quite romantical. God, there are some things a lady just does not share, you nosy cretin!

Anyway, before I could figure out what it meant or anything else could happen, we broke apart; I made up an excuse about work in the morning and ran off toward the train, and he waved after me. My head was swimming, and I needed some space to let everything straighten out again.

Me and Adymm?! It's crazy! Okay, so maybe  _you_ saw it coming, but it's not so easy when it's happening to you; sorta like, everybody can easily identify a river from the bank, but if you wake up drowning in it all you can tell is there's water, it's wet, and it is not your friend at the moment. For me, the only surprise that could have been bigger than this was Elvis and Godzilla stopping by to ask if I had any Grey Poupon.

Back at the apartment, I quickly threw myself in the shower to rinse all the unpleasant makeup and crap off me... and subconsciously to wash the "sin" off me. Not that he was evil and what we did was wrong, but it  _felt_ wrong - like we had just tainted our whole relationship. How did this happen?  _When_ did this happen? I mean, sure, he'd always had a thing for me, but I assumed he'd grow out of his little crush... only to find out it had grown much, much deeper.

Once again, I had a problem. I knew we got along great, and we were so close now that it was almost impossible to think of my life without him, but... I wasn't sure the math added up that way. Did those things really mean that-

Was Adymm Koriander my...  _boyfriend?_

_END Chapter Eight_


	9. Never Say Never, Adymm

"Psst! Libby!"

I looked around the bookcase to see Adymm's spiky blue hair (well, it had been blue ever since we left Swords, anyway), a shy smile tugging on a corner of his mouth. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What, I can't come visit my girl on her turf?"

My initial, logically-sound plan was to avoid him for a week or two - y'know, until I could sort out my feelings. As you can see, that dream died quickly.

"First off, I'm not your 'girl'," I hissed, more as a reflex than a well-thought-out statement, as I pulled the book I needed from a nearby shelf. "And if you call me that again, you'll be MY girl - got me?"

As I predicted, he flinched and turned kind of green. Call me what you want, but that was satisfying.

"Second, you don't go to school here. And third, shouldn't you be in  _your_ university right now?"

"Hey, no sweat," he said as he followed me to the table where my other books and notes were piled up. "Milnot's in that class, and he always tapes the lectures."

"Well, isn't that lucky for you? Too bad I have to do all my own homework, which is what I'm trying to do right now."

"Sorry," he whispered. "I just- I thought we should talk about..."

I sighed in frustration. Not only was the middle of Butler Library the exact  _wrong_ place for this conversation, but I'd only had a single day to wrestle with the issue. "Adymm, you ought to read that 'Women from Venus' book or something. Maybe it would teach you that this is a bad time!"

"Aw, c'mon," he muttered, scooting uncomfortably closer. "I thought about it all day yesterday, and y'know, I didn't want- I mean, not all of a sudden like that, but it's not like I can take it back... and I don't think I want to, anyway."

"Seriously, stop this!" I hissed, glancing around to see if anybody was watching; I figured they could see my cheeks burning from space by now. "Maybe you're done thinking, but I'm not! I need more time!"

"Why? We like each other, what's to think abou-"

"Listen," I said slowly and deliberately. "I've never really had a serious boyfriend, okay? It's not anything I'm going to rush into blindly. So for now, please, just go."

"But-"

"NOW."

He nodded as he slowly got up from the table. "I'll call you later," he mumbled before leaving.

Yes, it did hurt to see him go like that - I do have some sparse dregs of empathy. But he needed to learn to respect my requests for breathing room, because I really needed to reflect. And I swore I'd do that, right after I finished my paper.

But I couldn't - I couldn't concentrate on reading the source materials, and I couldn't get anything down on paper. I wasted at least half an hour in the library before I checked out the books and threw them in my bag, vowing I'd attack this when I got home.

I stewed over it in my last remaining class of the day, and on the subway, and walking to and from everything. So, as you can imagine, by the time I got to the apartment I had reached a conclusion; I did like Adymm, but the dating thing felt like a mistake. We were friends - why mess with that? Besides, a relationship seemed like something that would put a real strain on my academic performance, so perhaps it would be best not to chance it. My thoughts were put at ease, and I cranked out the paper quickly before I rushed off to the restaurant. I'd just have to tell him all this when he called.

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But that only works if you actually talk. A few days went by, and apparently Adymm couldn't pick up a phone; I called his house once, but his parents said he'd just stepped out (sounded cheap to me). Finally, when I was just leaving Scapelli's after a gruelling night, he ambushed me.

"Adymm, you scared me!" I shouted, clutching my chest - I definitely meant "ambushed", by the way.

"Sorry!" he said quickly. "Really, I didn't mean to-"

"No, nevermind, it's okay." I started walking down the street toward the Chessler flat, taking a few deep, settling breaths. "So, what's up?"

"Not much," he said, shoving his hands in his coat pockets to keep warm. "I just... I was wondering if we could talk again."

I nodded. "Yeah... sorry about going off on you in Butler, it was a little frosty of me."

"Don't worry about it, I'm the one who had the itchy trigger-finger. I mean, you live here, now - we've got all the time in the world, right?"

"I have no plans of hopping the border to Canada, no," I laughed.

"Good. Wouldn't want to lose you to Flannel Land." He coughed. "So..."

"Okay." I cleared my throat, as well. "Maybe I should come right out and say this; I think you're a really great-"

And he kissed me again.

Y'know, it's almost as if he could sense I was going to let him down easy again, that I was going to say it could never work and that we should stay friends, so he moved in for one final, passionate argument the easiest way he knew. It was like the chill of Autumn night air clung around us, frozen in time... and in the middle of it, I gave in to it all.

Again, I'm going to stop relating this stuff there.

He was very persuasive. And by that, I mean all those rational thoughts and reasons melted when I melted - I knew I had to be with him, it all felt more right than anything else I was doing, and it all made sense. We'd been together for a year... it just took us that long to wake up and realise it.

It still took us a few weeks to get used to being a couple. The dynamic changed a little, but after a while we realised nothing was really  _that_ different... there was just more stuff we could do together, now. And... we did, stuff that is, but I am a woman of honour - we did not rush straight into the boudoir or anything. Out of the gutter, please!

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Something else changed in that time period - the other guys in the band started calling me, just asking to hang out. I mean, they were cool and everything, but getting a call from Greg is about the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me (and you should know by now that's no casual statement). Killvein didn't seem to like me being around, but he mostly just grunted and drank beer anyway, so I guess it didn't matter. When I was there for a practice, I'd hum along with their songs, and sometimes they'd start playing random stuff, like a Doors tune or something from Radiohead's latest. One day, they played Garbage's "Special" and asked me to sit in, being that I could provide female vocals; I made a complete mess of the lyrics, but Adymm finally broke out the booklet for me and I did okay after that. I never knew you could actually have such a good time in a mechanic's shop.

Then, one day in late November, I walked into T.Q.'s dad's auto center and overheard a very heated argument...

"You're a right little prat, you know that? Getting your knickers in a twist over some bloody girl."

"She's always hanging around, mucking up everything. We need to be getting some work done!"

"Oh, and you're so good at that. You act like a supermodel with a stick up her-"

"Shut up, T.Q.!" Now I was close enough to recognise voices; that was Killvein. I decided to stay out of site behind an old Buick, hoping this would be over soon. "If you weren't too coked-out to see straight, you might know what I'm talking about!"

"What  _are_ you talking about, man?" Milnot. "She ain't really bothering anybody but you, so it sounds to me like you got all the issues, here."

"We were supposed to cut a demo last week, and we never got around to it. Seriously, I know it'd be over and done with if we spent more time playing and less time running a goddamn knitting club!"

"You are way outta line and you know it," T.Q. spat. "Tell him he's nuts, Greg!"

"Oi, I don't remember saying I cared what this wanker thought."

"Yeah? Well, you guys can go screw yourselves!" Suddenly he was coming my way - there was nowhere to go, and no time to get there. "Find yourselves another frontman, 'cause the Killvein is going solo!"

And we were face to face; all six-one of him towering over my measley five-four, his pierced nostrils flaring. "Um... hi there, handsome."

"Outta my way!" he growled, shoving me into the car and stomping toward the exit. Then Milnot was on that side of the car, too, ready to yell something nasty after him until he noticed me.

"Libby! What are you doing here?"

"Getting injured by that oversized baby, it looks like," I said, rubbing the brand new sore spot on my arm. "What was all that about?"

"Hey," he said, helping me over to one of the folding chairs they had set up next to an old table full of crap. "Here, sit down a minute."

"I'm fine, really... but he was very obviously pissed."

"More ways than one," Greg muttered, taking a swig from an Aquafina. "That git hasn't learned the values of sobriety."

"How much did you hear?" T.Q. asked.

"Enough," I said quietly. "He thinks I'm creating a Yoko factor."

"He thinks at all?" Milnot scoffed. "News to me."

"Hey, guys," Adymm said as he walked in. "Sorry I'm late, got held up by the parents." He dumped his guitar case on the table and massaged his neck. "Hey, what's Killvein's deal? He was acting all angsty on the way out, wouldn't even stop to..." It was about then he noticed the sombre vibe in the room. "Everything okay?"

"Not quite," Greg mumbled.

"He went off on us for letting Libby hang around," T.Q. filled him in. "For some reason he's blaming her for whatever's been eating at him lately."

"He got a little physical with her, too," Milnot put in.

"Oh, Libbs," he said, rushing over to me when he saw my hand on my shoulder. "What did he do, are you okay?!"

"God, will you guys stop fussing over this? It's not like I'm bleeding... probably won't even bruise."

"I swear to God, I'm gonna-"

"You're gonna leave it alone," I insisted, glaring him down. "Besides, you've got bigger problems."

"Not to belittle her pain, but Women's Lib has a point," Greg said, setting down his water thoughtfully. "The blighter did say he quit the band."

"Yeah." T.Q. sighed, running his hands through his shaggy brown hair. "I dunno, maybe he'll cool off and we can do some damage control tomorrow, or-"

"No thanks," Milnot laughed harshly. "He's no Freddie Mercury, and I can barely stand the asshole."

"Yeah," Adymm said, absentmindedly rubbing my back. "None of us like him, but we keep coming back to the same problem - what else do we do?"

T.Q. leaned back. "Denver's out of the hospital now, so we could ask him to fill in for a couple sets..."

"And then what?" Greg said pointedly. "We need an outright replacement, not a single-use delay-of-inevitable."

"I know, I know," Adymm growled, getting up and pacing. "Problem is, there are too many Killveins in New York, and all the really good singers around here are already in good bands."

"Not all of them," Greg said quietly... and to my horror, his shades and everybody else's eyes seemed to be pointed at me.

_END Chapter Nine_


	10. Libby With Butterfly Wings

"You can stop right there," I said, rising to my feet. "Look, it was fun once, but this is your thing; you can find somebody that fits better."

"You don't have to say yes now," Adymm blurted, picking up my hand. "Just... just think about it, okay?"

"There's nothing to think about!" I yelled, suddenly angry for some reason. Didn't anybody care what I thought, here?! "This isn't- I'm not your golden calf, okay? My image is all wrong for your band, you need somebody more... I dunno, gothy or whatever, and I'm just too-"

"Too pretty?" Milnot said with a crooked smile. "You got that right, but I think we can still use ya."

"We need you, Libby," T.Q. put in simply. "You're not only handy, but you're damn good."

"Shut up, you guys..." That one was more of a whine than anything.

"Do think about it," Greg yawned. "Let's call it a day for now, gents."

"Whew."

"Oh, dude, I almost forgot!" Adymm ran over to his guitar bag and unzipped it. "There was something I was all psyched to tell you guys, but all this crap kinda pushed it from my mind." He came up with four slips of paper.

"You found paper?" T.Q. asked with a chuckle. "Good boy! Now, fetch!"

"Shut up, moron!" He slowly crept forward into the unofficial circle the chairs and Milnot's drums formed. "I've been trying to get ahold of these for like, a month, and all my efforts finally paid off; to be honest, I didn't think I could do it, it's a friggin' miracle!"

"Out with it, already, you pompous twit," Greg snapped as he pulled a toque over his shaved head. "Or we'll grow bored and leave."

"I hold in my hands," he continued over-dramatically, "four tickets to the sold-out Smashing Pumpkins farewell concert in Chicago!"

The other guys instantly swooped down to gaze upon the grand prize Adymm had acquired, whooping and carrying on.

"And this is... important, right?"

...oh, don't give me that look. It's not like I've gone to more concerts in my short, sweet life than I can count on one hand, nevermind that I'd only ever heard of the band in passing; it seems like Harvey had tickets to go see them like, a thousand years ago.

"Libby, this is a once-in-a-lifetime event!" Adymm said, grabbing me by the shoulders; I couldn't help but smile at that manic gleam in his eyes. "December 2nd is our last chance to see Billy Corgan live!"

"Yeah, sure," Milnot laughed. "We all know they'll probably get back together in a couple years - seven, tops."

"But the Beatles never got back together," I put in, trying to be helpful. "It might be morbid, but one of these Pumpkins could get assassinated, too."

"Exactly," Adymm breathed. "Think about it! These things cost me more than they should, but it'll all be worth it when we hear them play; who knows? Maybe we'll get inspired to further greatness!"

"Well, count me out," Milnot replied, shrugging into his coat. "I mean, I'd love to meet Jimmy Chamberlin, but I still think they'll be back together soon enough. Besides, my Aunt Lewanda is getting married that weekend, and my moms would kill me if I missed it."

"Perfect," T.Q. said with a shrug. "That means there's four of us, and four tickets."

"Are you lot mental?" Greg spat as he pulled on his gloves. "Just exactly how does our intrepid quartet  _get_ to Chicago? Not in that crap van."

"I know I can't afford a plane ticket," I said quickly.

"Well... we could take the bus," Adymm thought aloud. "Greyhound's not that expensive; I'm sure we can swing it."

"Too bad it smells," T.Q. said.

Greg shook his head. "If you're not willing to put up with smells for one bloody trip, how d'you expect to make it on the road if and when we become famous?"

"Hmm... yeah, I guess you're right. I say we go for it."

"You get me there without breaking my pocketbook," Greg said slowly, "and I'm in, as well."

"You guys have lost your minds," Milnot laughed.

"Well?" Adymm asked. "How 'bout it, Libbs?"

I hesitated. "Well... I don't know the band really well, but it sounds like a blast. Except, well, I'm not sure about classes, or work, or-"

"Ask off!" Adymm said excitedly. "And we'll leave Friday afternoon, get there Saturday morning or whatever and then leave the day after the concert - we should only be gone four days total, right? You might even be able to make it to class on Monday!"

"But..."

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I'll spare you the rest of this conversation, because as lengthy as it was, and as much as we all ranted and raved, the eventual result was me caving in and asking Mr. Scapelli for a big favor, which he was happy to grant... as long as I cleaned out the fish tank when I got back. See, he loves his little fishies, so he put this huge aquarium in his restaurant for decoration; nobody wants to clean it, but now I had to. Isn't that flipping wonderful?

We did run into another snag; Greyhound turned out to be like, almost $150 for each person round-trip. It was cheaper than flying, but not by enough for all of us to be able to swing it without making a few minor sacrifices. T.Q. sold off some of his "stash", and Greg pulled a couple double shifts that weekend, but we still didn't have enough - only Adymm was covered since he charmed the money out of his parents as an early Christmas present. Secretly, I knew I could just buy us all passage in a heartbeat, but that nest egg was going to  _stay_ a nest egg, dammit!

Then, we realised the band had a gig that Wednesday night at The Blue Pearl - this jazz club with an aquatic theme that usually didn't book rock bands, but once in a while they let one slip by, especially for local artists. If the guys didn't suck they'd get paid the usual gas money, and if we could only pawn off a little merchandise, we might be able to make this happen.

Yeah - "we". Oh, I happily offered to man the gift table, but they just laughed. They knew I'd give in for the cause, and I found myself back in that ripped leather jacket, performing as "Cheerless" once again.

My second set with In Absinthia went better than the first; now that I knew I could pull off all those songs, the pre-show jitters were significantly more manageable, and I slipped into rock mode easier. The crowd seemed to get into it, and we actually sold about half our t-shirts (optimistically, we brought more like fifty that time). We got a lot of people coming up to us with words of praise, and our usual modest handful of autograph hounds and paparazzi. Ahh, it's hard being beautiful and talented.

With that, and me dipping into my nest egg for an extra fifty bucks in travel cash, we did it - we had enough for one grand road trip to see the Pumpkins go bye-bye. Even though I barely knew who they were, a crash course via borrowing Milnot's copy of "Siamese Dream" got me pumped for this whole experience... pumped enough to buy all of their other albums. It was going to be spectacular.

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Well, the trip was... something, alright.

We ran into the Greyhound station on Eighth just in time to get our tickets and catch the bus. T.Q. forgot clean underwear and Adymm never did find his toothpaste, but with only three backpacks and a purse for luggage, we were off!

I have never been more bored in my life than on that bus. I mean it, if I'd been alone, it would have been pure torture and I might not have made it alive; Adymm and I spent most of the time snuggling, but the best that did was make it  _warm_ boredness, so I can only imagine how much worse it was for Greg and T.Q.. There were some interesting sights for a while, but then we started seeing mostly fields and corn and stuff like that, and all there was to do was get up and go to the lavatory... or listen to the crazy lady talk about her cats. I'd rather use the disgusting john, thanks.

In retrospect, it's really too bad we didn't have room for a couple books, or Tetris or something.

Chicago is a grubby little city. Fine, so there's nothing little about it, but it's all dirty and run-down - I'm kinda used to a lot of that from New York, but it's almost everywhere there. There's still a lot of interesting stuff, though, and we spent some time walking around taking it in for the several hours we had before the show started; we grabbed lunch at this great little sushi place, I was pleasantly surprised by how good it was.

Unfortunately, T.Q. had his wallet stolen. It didn't mean anything dire as far as the trip went, since Greg was holding onto the bus tickets and most of our cash with his iron fist, and Adymm had insisted I keep the concert tickets in my - God, this is  _so_ embarassing - in my panties, so there'd be no chance of losing them.  _That_ wasn't uncomfortable at  _all._  So really, all it meant was he lost a few pictures of his girlfriend, and he'd have to go get another copy of his driver's license when we got back.

By that point, I started to wonder if this was all worth it... but I take it all back.

"Welcome," Billy Corgan bid us, "to the last gasp of the Smashing Pumpkins."

This part could stretch on for a long time if I really got into it, so I'll try to keep it brief; yeah, it blew my mind. I mean, I guess maybe I had been listening to more and more rock ever since I moved, and I blame that on Adymm, but this... maybe this is another bad cliché, but the experience changed my life. I never knew there could be music this real, that I could feel it this deep... or that so many people could come together to appreciate a band that had only existed for one single decade.

To be completely honest, though, I also didn't know they could do it for so  _long_. No seriously, we're talking almost  _FIVE HOURS._  This was the longest  _anything_ I'd ever been to, including some pretty awful off-Broadways. But you know what? It was long and  _good._  By the end of the show, I was dying of thirst, my bladder was on the brink of explosion (even after a pit stop between the first and second encores) and my feet just plain weren't speaking to me... but my only real regret is that I hadn't had more time to get acquainted with their body of work before I saw them say goodbye.

Adymm was right there with me, too; for some of the more energetic songs he had to get up and mosh or whatever, but mostly he wanted to share the experience with me... and even though we were sweaty, covered in white makeup (all his, but he kept kissing me) and completely exhausted, somehow feeling his arms around me while a bald guy in a dress screamed obscenities at us was one of the most romantic evenings I could ever imagine.

So yes, it was beautiful, it was terrible, it was awe-inspiring... and it awoke something in me.

_END Chapter Ten_


	11. Under Chessler

"Cripes, that was magnificent!" Greg panted, leaning against a telephone pole. Sometime after midnight, the Metro had finally spewed its contents of patrons into the cold streets, and everyone was laughing, crying and talking excitedly, heading for parking lots or mass transportation. "Bugger the absintence plan - I'll quit again tomorrow, but I need a cigarette after that."

"He's right, though," Adymm wheezed as Greg went up and down asking people if he could borrow a "fag".

"You need one, too?" I asked.

"Of course not... well, maybe, but I meant that the show was friggin' great. Did you hear Billy's dad play? That was unbelievable!"

"No, this is!" T.Q. said, watching his breath turn to fog in the night air above the complimentary CD he was holding. "The Pumpkins' Metro debut from 1988 - and it was free, can you freakin' believe it?"

"What's unbelievable is  _four_ encores," Greg moaned as he returned, fumbling with a lighter. "I'm amazed the whole sodding crowd didn't pass out."

"I'm amazed there wasn't a full-on riot!" I gasped. "I mean, how can it be over? They're so good!"

Adymm laughed at my wide-eyed display of fangirliness. "I seem to remember you asking if this concert was important?"

Obviously I kicked him... but I think it hurt me more by that point.

A couple hours and a few city bus hops later found us back on the Greyhound, waving goodbye to Chicago and actually hoping we'd see her again someday; after all, the Windy City had given us the most amazing night of our lives.

The other guys were asleep, and I was just nodding off, too, when Adymm nudged me. "Hnngh?"

"Hey Libbs... I wanted to ask you something."

"What?" I rubbed one of my eyes.

"I was wondering if... if you'd thought about our offer. Y'know, joining the band."

"Not really," I whispered. "Too much excitement."

"Oh."

After that, he snuggled up to me and didn't mention it again for the rest of the trip... but I did start thinking about it. And the more I thought about it, the more I couldn't just dismiss it as a stupid idea...

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We did get back to New York with just enough time for me to get home, grab another quick nap and a shower, then head out for my Monday morning class... which happened to be Algebra. Yes, that's exactly what I needed right after running around and screaming all weekend - MATH.

That afternoon, Adymm called and asked me to come by T.Q.'s dad's, and of course I said I would as soon as I got done cleaning out the fish tank at work. I spent the next several hours up to my knees in colourful rocks and little plastic castles, feeling hung over and wishing I could go home... and steeling myself for what I had to do afterward.

As I made my way from the subway to the garage, everything hurt - my back, my feet, my throat, my legs, my head... it was like somebody had thrown me in a clothes dryer for a few consecutive loads. Finally, I made it into the garage and plopped down in a chair immediately.

"Libby!" Adymm said, moving to hug me - one glare and he knew it wasn't a wise idea, so he changed direction and sat down next to me. "Hey, what's new?"

"I am so done with farewell concerts," I moaned, noting how hoarse I sounded. "I haven't been this sore since breaking in Valerie."

"Breakig whab?" Milnot asked, his mouth full of pastrami.

"Nevermind. The point is, all rock shows must be under two hours from now on... and I never want to see another fish as long as I live." I took off- make that  _peeled_ off my boots and propped my feet up on another chair. "Oh,  _Jesus,_ that's divine. Wake me up in a few thousand years." And with that, I leaned back on Adymm's lap, almost comfortable.

"Before you toddle off to dreamland," Greg muttered, currently cleaning the keys of his synthesizer with a rag, "we wanted to ask for an update on Project: Cheerless."

"Oh," I yawned distractedly. "Yeah, I'll do it."

" _REALLY?!_ " they all shouted... but I was too tired to do anything but nod. I distinctly remember them cheering and high-fiving, but everything after that's a little hazy.

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The next two weeks saw us playing three shows a week, with varying success. A second show at The Blue Pearl flopped abysmally - most of the audience that night were really jonesing for some jazz, and obviously we didn't feed their need. Inversely, an impromptu busking session in Central Park one Saturday (just for kicks) really drew a crowd - they loved it, and soon enough T.Q.'s bass case was filled with various coins and bills (and we unloaded more shirts, too). Life as a musician is all really interesting, even when it's not necessarily fun.

The more I got involved with the band, the more I found out about the way things were done. For example, our lyrics weren't all penned by Greg; I guess I had just assumed that, since he wrote most of the music with the other guys suggesting changes here and there. No, apparently Adymm wrote most of the words, and when I found that out, it made total sense; I always sensed that he had this kind, poetic soul, I just didn't realise quite how pronounced the poetry was.

School went fine; I suffered no real consequences for being half-dead that first day after the Chicago trip, and did as well as I ever do in math. On the downside, it got to the point where I was exhausted from both working and being Cheerless Chessler (and I do hate that name with a fiery passion, but it stuck). Finally, I had to ask Mr. Scapelli to dial back my hours, and he was fine with it... mostly because he had a niece who needed a job, and this gave him an excuse to work her into the schedule. Besides, I was thinking about visiting my mom in Japan for Christmas - even though I still resented her - so he would have a couple weeks to break in the new blood.

Then, a few days before University broke for Christmas vacation, T.Q. called us together to spring some exciting news on the band. Though none of us knew what to expect, exactly (I mean, this was T.Q.), we showed all the same... but if I'd known what the big brouhaha was about, I'd have brought the Tums.

A  _lot_ of Tums.

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"What are we doing here?" I asked, looking around the pizzeria.

"Well, my dad's working on the hot rod tonight so we had to meet somewhere else," T.Q. said as he picked up a menu; the five of us were crammed into one of those weird round booths, glasses of water already in place. "Besides, I'm starving - pepperoni and black olives good for you guys?"

Adymm made a face. "No way, I hate olives."

"I don't," I muttered, but I don't think anybody heard me.

He leaned over to the waitress, who had just come up with her pad and pencil (and loud, annoying gum-chewing). "Just a large, deep-dish pepperoni, then - my treat."

" _Your_ treat?" Milnot said, raising his eyebrow. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with our bass player?"

"Shut up, Milk Dud," he growled good-naturedly. "This is a dinner of celebration."

"What's the occasion, then?" Greg asked, throwing his elbow over the back of the booth and lighting up a Camel (I wish he wouldn't do that around me). "Got yourself a brain, have you?"

"Better. I got us a gig."

What a build-up for that; pure, 100 Wisconsin cheddar. "Where?" I asked.

"Some damn Massachusetts town, who cares? The important thing is, it pays well - I'm talking like, $200!"

"What?!" Greg sat bolt upright. "But shite bands like us never make that kind of quid!"

"Yeah," he said, grinning. "See, turns out somebody that caught our little set in the Park liked us so much they saw us again at the Writhing Tarantula - and you remember that show, right?"

"We were really on fire that night," Adymm breathed with a nod.

"Well, evidently, that guy knows another guy who works at a coffee shop up there, and they're having this... 'mini-festival' a few days before Christmas to drum up business. I guess they're really desperate, and our new fan knew for a fact that we could really play, so..."

"Man, this is great," Milnot said with a grin. "Our first gig that pays more than peanuts."

I couldn't help but ask; the temptation was too great, and a strange sense of foreboding wouldn't let me ignore my curiosity. "Um... wha- what town is this, T.Q.?"

He shrugged, leaning back and picking up his water glass. "Someplace called... Westbridge?"

_The End (Is The Beginning)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And again, we come to the end of Libby's tale (for now). I've got more in the wings, trust me, but let me know what you're thinking so far. Like? Dislike? Either way, thanks for reading, and I hope it wasn't complete crap. TTFN!

**Author's Note:**

> Libby Chessler, Sabrina the Teenage Witch and all related characters are © Archie Comics / Hartbreak / Paramount / Whatever. Adymm and the members of In Absinthia are © me, so there. This work of fiction is ©2008 myself.
> 
> Hi, I'm back! Miss me?  
> Before you start reading, it's VERY important that you realise something; this has so little to do with Sabrina (the character and show) that it almost qualifies to be thrown on FictionPress. That's because the main focus is on Libby's life once she's left for boarding school, so Sabrina has very minimal involvement in these pages. It's not exactly a sequel to my last fic, and also much shorter, so think of it as "Cheer-Streaked 1.5"; if you've ever read the Narnia books, this is somewhat akin to "A Horse And His Boy", if you will. I plan on writing a proper sequel in short order, but this is kind of a "what happened in between?" piece that you may choose to read, or ignore wholly - but if you want the unabridged story, here it is. Do as you please!


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